


Beginner's Guide

by ehmazing



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Developing Relationship, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-11-24 22:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehmazing/pseuds/ehmazing
Summary: [MAJOR SPOILERS FOR S3 EPISODE "OBLIVIO"]Things might have turned out differently if Marinette's phone had a little less battery power.





	1. Parts and Assembly

**Author's Note:**

> Local Woman Knows She Has to Ride the Urge to Write Oblivio AU As Far As It Will Take Her
> 
> If you're someone who gets nervous looking at a ? chapter count, this will likely be a 2 or 3-parter!
> 
> *****LAST SPOILER WARNING: DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE EPISODE!!!*****

“Well,” Adrien says, glancing over the rooftop, “is that all?”

The boy and girl formerly known as Oblivio are scratching their heads, rubbing their eyes as if coming out of a daze. A black butterfly circles overhead. Marinette shrugs.

“That’s all the turtle guy said before my phone died,” she says, watching the butterfly as it spirals higher and higher until it’s out of sight. “Use our special powers, break the object the akuma is holding, and now it looks like they’re not evil anymore. So, yeah, I guess that’s all.”

“Alright. Great!” Adrien smiles at her. She notes that his teeth are sharper now, maybe from the magic, but he still looks a little goofy in his costume. She probably looks pretty goofy herself. He curls his clawed hand into a fist and taps her lightly on the shoulder. “Good job!”

She smiles backs and taps his shoulder too. “Good job.”

“Ladybug?” The un-akumatized girl is standing up, fixing her glasses back onto her nose. “Is everything fixed? You usually have to leave by now—”

As if on cue, there’s a shrill ringing in Marinette’s ears, the same sound she heard when she first awoke. Adrien gasps and grabs his right hand, where his black ring is blinking furiously. He looks up at her, eyes wide.

“What are we supposed to do?” he whispers, glancing back towards the other pair, who are starting to walk over, looking concerned. Marinette’s heart begins to race, remembering the shock in the turtle’s voice when he realized they’d confessed something about who they were. Before the boy and girl can get too close, Marinette grabs Adrien’s hand and yanks him over to the roof’s edge, hurriedly unclipping her yoyo from her hip.

“I’m not sure, kitty-cat, but this feels like the part where we run away,” she says, and with a quick wave to the other two, grabs him around the waist and swings.

 

* * *

 

They make it down to a shaded alleyway before the transformation wears off. The red mouse-thing—Tikki, that’s right, Tikki—nestles in Marinette’s purse, so tired her little antennae are drooping. Adrien tucks the cat into his shirt pocket, biting his lip.

“They don’t look so good,” he says, as the cat moans, _“I’m dyinnnng.”_

“I’m not dying,” Tikki sighs, “I’m just hungry again.”

“We’ll find you something to eat,” Marinette promises, giving the poor thing a pat on the head with the tip of her finger, “as soon as we figure out where we’re supposed to go from here.”

They huddle around Adrien’s phone as he weeds through his apps, looking for any kind of home address. He frowns as he scrolls through his calendar.

“Wow, I must be a busy guy,” he says. “I’m learning Mandarin _and_ Japanese?”

Marinette leans over his shoulder. “What’s a ‘shoot’? You have a lot of those.”

“No idea. Maybe something with archery? Hey, wait…” Adrien looks over at her and Marinette realizes suddenly that they’ve gotten much closer than she thought. She wills herself not to jerk backward as she feels blood rush to her face. “Do you think we go to the same school?”

“M-maybe?” His eyelashes are so long, and his nose is cute, and his lips are—great, now she’s losing her focus as quickly as her memory. “It would make sense, if we, um, hang out a lot.”

Of course, they don’t ‘hang out’—they date. They’re dating. She tests the words in her head: _Hello,_ _I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is the boy I’m dating._ It feels about as natural as saying, _Hello, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I live on the moon._

“Then we’re both in big trouble,” Adrien interrupts her thoughts by shoving his phone into her face, “because we’re still on that field trip your mom mentioned.”

THURSDAY, 0900-1200, his calendar orders, HISTORY 201 @ MONTPARNASSE TOWER. And according to the phone, it’s already 1145.

“Then go!” Marinette shrieks as she seizes his hand and starts running. “Go, go, go!”

By the time they reach the main entrance, she spots a line of other kids their age filing into a tour bus. The two of them glance at each other as they approach, apprehensive. _What if no one recognizes us?_ Marinette worries. _What if this is the wrong class, or the wrong school, and people are still looking for us?_ But then a red-headed woman with a clipboard waves to them.

“Marinette! Adrien! Oh, thank goodness!” She shepherds them over, looking relieved. “Did you get lost? The emergency checkpoint was on the second floor, but it didn’t do much good when the akuma made so many people forget where they were supposed to go.”

“Y-yeah, madame, that’s what happened!” Marinette answers, smiling nervously. “We’re sorry.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” their teacher soothes. “I’m just happy that Ladybug and Chat Noir put everything back to normal!”

Marinette looks into the faces of her classmates as she passes by their seats. Does she have any friends? Does she have any enemies? Everyone seems to be chatting amicably about the trip and the superhero battle; no one pays her any mind as she ducks into an empty row near the back.

She looks to her left, expecting Adrien to be there, but he’s still standing in the aisle, looking nervous.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?” he asks, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “I don’t recognize anyone here, and I don’t want to sit alone, but I understand if you want some space to yourself after all that—”

Marinette’s heart clenches in her chest. “Of course I don't mind!” she says, yanking him down a little too quickly. His arm grazes against hers as he settles into his seat, and without thinking Marinette takes his hand again, squeezing it. “I don’t want to be alone either, you know.”

Adrien smiles at her, grateful, and squeezes her hand back.

Suddenly, all conversations cease. At the front of the bus, their teacher has boarded with a boy and girl squirming in front of her—the same boy and girl from the roof.

“Why don’t you two sit down,” the teacher murmurs, ushering them forward, “and we’ll have a private talk when we get back to school, hm?”

“Hey, Nino!” a tall boy in a red hoodie jeers as they pass him. “Tell us your high score!” The students in the front burst into giggles. The teacher gives the tall boy a hard look, and he sinks down, abashed, but the giggles still follow the pair as they go to find seats. The girl keeps her head down, her fists clenched. She sits across the aisle from Adrien and Marinette. The boy goes to sit beside her, but she shakes her head in a silent but firm refusal. He slinks to the very back of the bus instead, looking crestfallen.

Adrien leans down and mutters to Marinette, “What do you think made the two of them turn evil?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette replies. “Hey there,” she says more loudly, catching the attention of the girl, “are you okay?”

The girl looks up, anger flashing in her eyes, but when she sees Marinette she seems to soften a little.

“Am I okay? Well, I’m officially the laughingstock of the class,” she says dryly. Her eyes are red and puffy behind her glasses. “But, y’know, guess I’ll have to get over it, or I’ll be akumatized again.”

Marinette wishes she were closer—to give this girl, whoever she is, the hug it looks like she sorely needs—but the bus lurches forward, the driver droning orders to fasten their seatbelts. Adrien has to let go of her hand to fasten his, and when Marinette struggles with her buckle he kindly fixes it for her.

“Wow,” she jokes, linking her arm around his elbow when he’s finished, “I don’t know how I do anything without you!”

Adrien chuckles. His cheeks are tinged pink. His cheeks that she kissed today, that she probably kisses on the regular, and maybe has even kissed his—

“Marinette. Dupain. Cheng.”

They turn their heads to find the girl across the aisle staring at them with an almost ferocious intensity. She looks from Marinette’s face, to their arms, to Marinette’s face again. Marinette begins to panic.

_Is this girl mad at me for something? Is she jealous? Is she Adrien’s ex-girlfriend, and there’s some long, dramatic history between them that I doesn’t remember, and this girl isn’t over it, and she has some plan to take her revenge and take Adrien back and even though I’ve only known him for a day, I’ll never have the chance to fall in love with him again?_

“Marinette,” the girl says again, slowly and seriously, “do you have _news—”_   her eyes go back to their arms again, “—to share with me? News you haven’t told _Alya Césaire,_ your very best friend in the whole world?”

Marinette giggles nervously. “Not really, Alya,” she manages to say. “Just, uh, business as usual over here!”

Alya raises an eyebrow and opens her mouth to say something else, but then their teacher stands at the front and claps her hands for attention, and it's impossible to keep talking while they’re being quizzed on the history of the Tour Montparnasse. Still—Alya’s eyes keep flicking back to them, looking suspicious and somewhat wounded.

And for the millionth time that day, Marinette has the sinking feeling that she’s missing something big.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, they get back to school and get through the rest of the day. Marinette fumbles when called on to answer a physics formula that she’s supposed to have learned months ago. The teacher doesn’t look very surprised when she stutters over the numbers, but when Adrien does the same the whole class seems shocked. So Adrien must be good at physics, along with Mandarin, Japanese, piano, and fencing too, if his schedule is the evidence. Marinette feels strangely proud. _I’ve got a boyfriend, and he’s super kind and super smart and a superhero!_

When the final bell rings, she walks extra slowly to let all of the other students get to their lockers first. Watching them carefully, she finally approaches the one that’s not been opened at all. The lock glints in the light, mocking her.

“Hey Marinette, forget your combination again?”

She jumps at the sound of her name, and looks up to find a tough-looking boy pulling a denim jacket out of the locker at her left. A worn patch beneath the neck tag reads “IVAN.”

“Yup, Ivan, you know me!” she says, praying that the jacket actually belongs to him.

Apparently it does, for the boy just motions for her to move. With a grunt, he slams the locker door with his shoulder. Her lock springs open.

“Ivan,” Marinette gushes with genuine relief, “you’re the best!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, giving her a friendly smile. “You say that every time.”

Without a working phone she can’t do much research, but Marinette gathers as much evidence from the locker as she can. Mixed in with her textbooks are a couple of fashion magazines; a photo of her with two people—her parents, they must be her parents!—is taped to the door, as is one of her and Alya; a wrinkled Jagged Stone tour sweatshirt is stuffed in the bottom of her backpack; and scrapped pencil drawings of dresses, shirts, pants, and shoes are littered everywhere. _Apparently I’m a mess,_ she bemoans, digging through the hoard.

And then, crushed under her grammar workbook, the key: a macaron box stamped with the logo of Tom & Sabine Boulangerie.

Marinette flags down Adrien as everyone trickles out the school’s main door.

“If Sabine Cheng is my mom, then this must be where my parents work,” she whispers, showing him the address printed on the box. Adrien quickly searches for it on his phone and gives her the result.

“At least you won’t have to walk too far,” he says. “I’m sure your parents will be glad to see you’re okay.”

“Yeah…” Marinette looks away, toward the packs of students leaving the school, siblings and neighbors linking up to head home together. Even though it’s hardly a block away, the thought of navigating unfamiliar streets makes her nervous.

Adrien nudges her. “Want me to come with you?” he asks quietly. “Your address is saved in my locations, actually. We probably walk together all the time.”

“Makes sense,” she agrees, already feeling better at the thought of his company. Adrien playfully offers his arm as if escorting her to a dance. She takes it with an equally goofy flourish, just to see if it makes him laugh, and finds herself pleased when it does.

She pretends not to notice the little groups of people who fall silent as they pass, and then start whispering furtively behind them.

 

* * *

 

On the way, they share what they’ve learned about themselves so far; Marinette through observation, Adrien through furtive Googling during classes.

“My family seems kind of intense,” he admits. “A lot of news articles came up when I searched for my dad’s name. He works in fashion, but everyone online says he’s so busy that he doesn’t have time to even attend his own shows. My mom’s name is Emilie, and there was even less about her; only some modeling and film credits from a few years ago.”

“What about you?” Marinette prompts. “Did you Google yourself?”

Adrien nods, but doesn’t continue. His cheeks are turning pink again.

“Oh, come on, you can tell me!” Marinette pleads.

Adrien chews at his lip. “It’s just…silly,” he deflects. “Like, really, _really_ silly.”

“Sillier than being a boy who saves the city dressed as a cat?”

“…Fine.” Adrien takes a deep breath. “Okay. Don’t laugh. But according to Wikipedia, I’m…I’m a…” He screws his eyes shut. “I’m a teen male model.”

Marinette tries, she really does. But one giggle escapes. Then another. Soon they’re pouring out, and she’s helpless to stop them.

“Some girlfriend you are!” Adrian groans. “Can’t even take my lifelong career seriously!”

“I’ll support you!” Marinette croons, though her wicked grin might say otherwise. “I’ll come to all your fashions shows! I’ll buy all your magazines!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adrien says, and it’s clear that he’s struggling not to giggle with her. “Oh, here it is.”

They’re standing in front of a white building. _TOM & SABINE_ is painted across the black and gold windows. Even standing outside, the air is warm with the smell of fresh bread. Marinette’s stomach rumbles just as the cat moans again softly from Adrien’s shirt.

“Stay strong, little guy,” Adrien murmurs to him, patting his pocket gently. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Marinette replies, but doesn’t release his arm yet. Her gut is twisting with a strange mix of feelings—some comfort at finding her family so easily, but mostly fear. This place may be home to yesterday’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but that doesn’t change the fact that the only familiar thing in the city today is Adrien. And he’s about to leave her. “Um, text me when you get to your place, okay? Try not to get mobbed by your legions of model fans.”

“I’ll do my best,” he quips, winking at her. _“Salut!”_

He ducks to kiss her cheeks, but Marinette grips his arm suddenly, holding him back.

“Do you—do you think we should—” Oh no, she’s definitely blushing again. Adrien blinks, confused, his green eyes gleaming, and she has to force herself to swallow. “Do you think that we normally, ah, say goodbye with—with a—”

“Oh.” Adrien steps back. His face might be even redder than hers. “Oh. Well. Uh. We—we might. That is, uh, if you think that we like each other that much, to—”

“I like you.” It flies out of Marinette’s mouth before she can stop herself. Her fingers skitter down Adrien’s arm, finding his hand again. “I like you a lot.”

Adrien moves forward, threading his fingers with hers. Her heart is hammering in her chest as he replies, softly, “I like you too. A lot.”

“And we’re—” Marinette swallows again, her throat dry as she cups Adrien’s cheek with her other hand, “—dating.”

“We’re dating.”

“So—”

“So…”

So the only natural thing to do is kiss.

It occurs to Marinette—far, far in the back of her mind, in the small pocket that must be the only part thinking at all right now—that this is not her first kiss. That she must have kissed Adrien a few times, a dozen times, maybe a hundred times before, because it feels like the easiest thing she’s done all day. His cheek is soft under her palm, the ends of his hair brushing her fingers. He breathes out shakily, and his other hand comes to rest at her waist, pulling her closer.

 _What does it matter if I can’t remember everything?_ she thinks, eagerly leaning up to press her mouth more firmly to his. _This much is good enough._

Thus occupied, the only warning they get is the distant tinkle of the boulangerie’s door chime before a high-pitched scream jolts them apart.

A huge, hulking man is standing there, one arm still propped against the door, his mouth open wide as he stares at the two of them. Marinette and Adrien stare back.

“Tom?” Hurried footsteps sound from within the shop, and then a small woman with dark hair appears, looking worried. “What’s wrong?” She follows his gaze. “Marinette? What made your father—” She looks at Adrien, and something clicks. “Oh.” She covers her mouth, but a smile is cracking through.

“H-hello, Maman,” Marinette tries out, “and er, Papa. This is—well, I think you already know—”

She doesn’t get the chance to finish, as her father leaps forward and catches the two of them in a crushing hug, lifting them off their feet.

 _“My daughter’s first boyfriend!”_ her father shouts, twirling around as Adrien yelps in surprise. And maybe it’s the spinning, or the smothering pressure of his arms, or the lack of a kiss to occupy the rest of her brain, but Marinette finally puts all the clues together and solves the equation:

She knows a boy named Adrien Agreste  
\+ The two of them are dating  
\+ This was news to her apparent best friend _and_ her parents  
\+ The two of them are superheroes  
\+ They weren’t supposed to share their secret identities with anyone else, therefore,

= They definitely weren’t supposed to share that they were dating, either.


	2. Troubleshooting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody.....well my computer is in the shop and work kicked my ass for a while, but! here u go

That weekend, Marinette tackles the daunting task of catching up with her entire life.

“Here’s what I can do,” she reads aloud to Tikki, who is busy tackling a plate of cast-off macaron shells. “Sewing: once I looked up how to thread the machine, the other steps clicked, even though that practice shirt I made is definitely unwearable. Drawing: great! I don’t remember any of the unfinished pieces in my sketchbook, but I guess I can work on new ones. Baking: I thought that cake tasted fine, and I don’t get why Maman panicked when she found me using the blow torch.

“And what I can’t: I can’t sing, and I definitely can’t play that old clarinet in the closet. Dancing: debatable. Sports: oh god no. Ditto on cartwheels and juggling. I don’t know why I thought I could juggle.”

Tikki looks up, crumbs sticking to her face. “Maybe you could, if you didn’t try it with balls of dough.”

“I didn’t think they would stick to the ceiling! ...Oh, maybe _that’s_ why Maman is nervous when I’m in the kitchen. But still!” Marinette crosses her arms. _“You_ can’t juggle, either!”

“No,” Tikki replies, smug, “but I can do this.”

With a kick, she sends the plate off the edge of Marinette’s desk. It shatters on the floor, sending glass shards flying.

“Tikki!” Marinette shrieks, jumping back, but then a flash of red light fills the room. When Marinette blinks away the spots in her eyes, the plate is sitting on her desk again, good as new. Tikki grins, spinning in the air.

“I bet the grumpy cat can’t do _that,”_ she boasts.

“I don’t want to know how you figured that out, and I’m not going to ask,” Marinette groans, pushing the plate as far away from the edge as she can. “Let’s get back to figuring out the secret boyfriend situation.”

For there was no doubt that it was a secret. The moment Adrien was able to escape from her parents’ clutches and Marinette found a charger, her phone was buzzing off the counter as message after message came flooding in:

> **Alya 👓👯♀️🧡**  
>  MARINETTE  
>  MARINETTE WHAT HAPPENED WITH ADRIEN ON THE FIELD TRIP
> 
> **Rose 🌹  
>  **i couldn’t see over the seat, but juleka said you were sitting with adrien on the bus today?!?! i’m so proud!!! 😊😚🌟
> 
> **Alya 👓👯♀️🧡**  
>  I CAN’T LOOK ANYONE IN THE EYES AFTER TODAY, SO I CAN’T ASK ANYONE ELSE ABOUT THIS  
>  YOU WERE ****FLIRTING WITH HIM**** AND NOT HAVING A HEART ATTACK
> 
> **Alix 🤘  
>  **d-cheng did u take the leap w agreste?? marc said he saw hand-holding in the hall, i said he was crazy, that much skin contact would kill u lol
> 
> **Alya 👓👯♀️🧡  
>  **MARINETTE!!!!!!!!! PLUG IN YOUR PHONE AND CALL ME!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **Sabrina (ugh don’t answer if she’s speaking for Chloé)  
>  **Chloé wants me to inform you that the rumors she’s heard about Adrien walking you home are definitely false, but if they’re true, please provide a date and time to be interrogated and expect it will be “excruciating” (Tuesdays she’s not free until 1800) [Add to calendar]
> 
> **Alya 👓👯♀️🧡  
>  **PLEASE CALL ME MY PARENTS JUST ASKED WHY I GOT A WARNING NOTE FROM M. DAMOCLES AND I CAN’T DEAL WITH THAT SITUATION RIGHT NOW SO I NEED THIS UPDATE FROM YOU, OKAY??
> 
> **💕💖❤️🌟💘Adrien✨💍💗💕💑❤️**  
>  got home safe!  
>  (actually I’m in trouble bc I didn’t recognize the car waiting for me and that made me late to a piano lesson, but I guess I’m a regular troublemaker bc I didn’t get grounded haha)
> 
> my house is HUGE, kinda looks like a horror film tho  
>  why does my room smell so weird—oh, Plagg figured it out  
>  DOES HE EAT THIS MUCH EVERY DAY???? [Download video attachment]
> 
> piano was bad. very bad. couldn’t remember piece I was supposed to learn so just played whatever my hands wanted to and apparently that was a video game soundtrack and not Bach. yikes.  
>  meeting my dad soon, wish me luck! 🤞
> 
> ..or NOT meeting my dad, he’s having dinner in the office. honestly kind of relieved
> 
> hope your night is going well! my ribs still hurt from meeting your dad, but it was worth it 😉❤️  
>  ...ugh sry that felt weird, how are people supposed to text their girlfriends??
> 
> here’s a ladybug meme I found taped to my computer, I don’t remember the context but it made me laugh so hard I started coughing. guess I haven’t changed much [Download photo attachment]

> **Alya 👓👯♀️🧡  
>  **M A R I N E T T E

The proof only became more damning from there: the photos stashed in drawers and crammed under the mattress; the notes in her sketchbook on making birthday gifts for him far in advance; and of course, the schedules.

“I have Adrien’s life written out by the minute, and notes on my calendar that just say ‘CN patrol’ every other night, when my parents think I’m asleep.” Marinette drums her fingers on the desk. “If I were a total stranger looking at that, I’d think we were, um…”

“Sneaking around?” Tikki supplies.

Marinette covers her heated cheeks with her hands. “Y-yeah. And if we went to that much trouble to keep it a secret, that means we must’ve had a good reason to hide. But now everyone knows! What if that screws up everything? What if something terrible happens?!”

There’s a slight tickle near her nose where Tikki lands.

“I’m sure it’ll turn out fine, Marinette,” she soothes. “If there’s anything I know, it’s that my Ladybugs always find the right solution, even if it can take time to—”

Marinette raises her head. Tikki’s eyes are blown wide, her tiny mouth agape.

“You remembered something?” Marinette gasps.

“I remember…I remember…Ladybug!” Tikki hovers up and down, gaining speed, flitting back and forth across the bedroom with increasing excitement. “In Kemet, it was the rainy season—dirt roads, they were always dusty in Donrémy—I only ate mochi and it tasted like cherries—and Plagg only liked antelope meat if it went sour—Marinette!” She spirals around Marinette’s head, almost too fast to see. “I remember! I wanted to help humans because—because…”

Tikki drops back down onto the desk, looking glum.

“I still forget the rest,” she despairs.

“But you remembered other Ladybugs, in other places!” Marinette scoops her gently into her hands. “And what you did to the plate—maybe you can restore bigger things than that! Maybe the akuma’s power is wearing off you because you can restore yourself!”

Tikki flops over on her back. “But if I can, I don’t know how to make it work any faster,” she says mournfully.

“That’s alright,” Marinette soothes. “We’ll figure it out together.” She tickles Tikki under the chin, and after resisting a moment, Tikki is giggling again, her tiny wings fluttering.

 _Y’know, this superhero thing is actually pretty great,_ Marinette muses, smiling as Tikki returns to the macaron leftovers, _if I get to be on a team with Tikki, Plagg, and of course—_

There’s a soft but distinct _thump_ on the roof over her head. Marinette’s heartbeat starts racing at once.

 

* * *

 

By the time she’s climbed to the loft and opened the trapdoor, Adrien has managed to arrange himself in the deck chair with a newspaper folded over his knee, as if he’s been lounging there all evening. His black ears twitch when he sees her, his mouth curling into a lazy grin.

“Good evening, mademoiselle,” he purrs. “Your friendly neighborhood Chat Noir just thought he’d stop by. But please, if you’re busy, I’ll be on my way! I wouldn’t want to…” He winks. _“Bug_ you.”

“I get the feeling that I’ve heard that one a million times before,” Marinette answers flatly, but holds the door open for him to slide down after her. The transformation peels off as Adrien lands on her bed, and Plagg yawns as he solidifies.

“We did not come here for _that,”_ he interrupts loudly the moment they lean in. Startled, Marinette’s nose crashes against Adrien’s ear and his mouth catches only a clump of her hair.

 _“Plagg,”_ Adrien hisses, his cheeks turning rapidly red.

“It took you two an hour and a half to ‘swap school notes’ last night.” Plagg swoops in between them, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what the old Plagg let you get away with— _I_ have a very busy schedule to attend to.”

“You sleep in my pocket _all day—”_

“And I could be sleeping there right now!”

“Okay, okay! Hey, Tikki,” Marinette calls, “why don’t you show Plagg your trick?”

“Really?” Tikki perks up, looking excited. “Sure!” In a flash she’s grabbed Plagg by the tail and dragged him over to the desk, ready to show off.

Adrien sighs and starts to say something, but Marinette leans up again and this time, her kiss lands exactly where it’s meant to. When she pulls away, Adrien is blushing more fiercely than ever.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“You already said hi,” Marinette points out, laughing. “You had a whole routine set up on the roof, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Adrien brushes a second kiss against her mouth, squeezing her hand once. “Well, hi again.” Now Marinette’s face is growing red too.

 _“I saw that,”_ Plagg growls from across the room.

Rolling their eyes, they get to work. Marinette silently thanks her former self for having the foresight to install a giant pull-down screen in the ceiling, and her more recent self for wiping off Adrien’s schedule before he arrived.

“I don’t have many leads,” Adrien says, accepting the marker from her. “Nathalie—my father’s assistant—doesn’t like to talk about my personal life with me unless she’s organizing it. My driver hardly talks at all. And I still haven’t seen my father. He’s apparently on some big creative binge, basically living in his office.” He frowns, adding his father’s name to the list labelled _DON’T KNOW ABOUT US._ “If I didn’t see Nathalie take him food, I’d be worried he died in there.”

“And what about your friends?” Most of Marinette’s contacts have been added to the _DO KNOW ABOUT US_ column, which unfortunately grows with every text she receives. “Do you think any of them suspected…?”

“Some girl named Chloé claims she’s revoking my best friend title because she ‘wasn’t consulted about my poor choice of girlfriend,’ so that’s a no. And there’s Nino—” Adrien glances down at his buzzing phone, “—yup, there he is. Nino has only asked if I can ask _you_ to talk to Alya. About ten times. Have you talked to Alya?”

Marinette groans. “I will, okay? I’ve been busy!” She gestures to the mess around them: school papers and photos and sewing patterns and sketchbooks that have been strewn across the room over the course of her weekend studies. “It’s hard to piece together your whole life when you’re a horrible note-taker!”

“Aww,” Adrien chuckles. Something warm bubbles in Marinette’s chest at the sound. “But your handwriting is so cute!”

“Don’t start getting mushy on me,” she tries to counter smartly, but it comes out sounding about as flustered as she feels. “We have to practice this until it’s perfect.”

They manage to stretch the meeting— _Date,_ Marinette reminds herself, _it’s a date, stop being so weird, you don’t have ‘meetings’ with your boyfriend_ —even longer than last night’s, but unlike last night, Marinette is more exhausted from rehearsing the plan than dazed from kissing. Adrien grunts as he stands, stretching his arms over his head.

“Alright, Plagg, time to go,” he calls, pausing mid-sentence to yawn.

But the kwami doesn’t reply.

“Plagg?” Adrien calls again, frowning at the empty desk. Marinette looks around the room, but doesn’t spot any floating—or napping—black blobs in sight. Or red ones, for that matter.

“They couldn’t have gone downstairs,” she says, but still she feels panicked; what if her parents wake up to pans clanging in the kitchen, a trail of icing and cheese leading them right to the mythical culprits? Worse: what if the culprits lead them to the boy she snuck into her room after curfew? She scurries around, checking under furniture and overturning cushions, growing frantic.

“Wait, look!” She turns to find Adrien pointing at the ceiling, where the trapdoor is once again open. They both hurry to the loft and scamper up to the roof. Sure enough, Tikki is there, hovering over the railing.

“Tikki!" Marinette scolds, walking over to her. “You scared me! I thought you got lost!”

Tikki’s bright eyes widen. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she apologizes. “We just needed more room for the experiment.”

“Plagg?” Adrien calls again, peeking through the leaves of the potted fern. “Come on, we really do have to get back.”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Experiment?”

Tikki nods. “When I showed him I could put things back together, Plagg wanted to find out what he could do. We did a few tests while you two were busy, but he wanted to try something bigger.”

Adrien joins them at the railing. “Hold on… What were you testing this on, and how much bigger was he—”

He gets his answer in the form of a resounding _crack_ that echoes across the Parisian sky. And whirling around to look over the other side of the rood, they all discover Plagg’s idea of ‘something bigger’ is the tip of Eiffel Tower, suddenly looking more rust than steel. Marinette’s mouth hangs open as the antenna slowly lists to the side with a sickening screech, and then snaps and falls off completely, hitting the ground with a massive _thud_ that shakes the foundations of the house, of the entire city. Several car alarms rise up in serenade.

“Wow!” Tikki shouts excitedly. “So it _does_ work on everything!”

Adrien slowly buries his face in his hands. Marinette, faithful girlfriend, joins him.

 

* * *

 

If she really is a superhero, Marinette reasons, and she’s really faced down dangerous villains and monsters several times a week, then there’s no reason she should be so afraid of going back to school.

Still, her hands fidget on the straps of her backpack as she walks up the front steps with the rest of the students on Monday morning. She wishes she had a loose pocket for Tikki to burrow in like Plagg does in Adrien’s shirt—she would at least feel better knowing her friend was closer at hand. Instead, she mumbles in the direction of her purse, “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

She unlocks her locker on her own this time, stacks her books in order of her class schedule taped to the inside of the metal door. Straightening up, she takes a deep breath, and then quickly raps twice on it before clicking the lock shut.

_And five, four, three, two, one…_

“Hey, Marinette!”

Adrien is behind her, his own backpack slung over one shoulder. He’s smiling, but he looks a little nervous. _Perfect,_ she thinks. _That’ll sell it even better._

“Hi, Adrien,” she returns, careful not to seem too expectant. Next to her, Ivan has already stopped gathering his books from his own locker and is nudging a short girl with a bandana, not-so-subtly gesturing to the two of them with wide-eyed interest. “Oh, I never said thank you for walking me home on Friday, after the akuma attack.”

Adrien shrugs, smiling. “No problem.”

“And thanks—” Marinette raises her voice just slightly, as the whole row of lockers has been abandoned now, all eyes on them, “—for helping me escape, when we were both trapped in the Tour Montparnasse during all the fighting.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” Adrien takes a step forward, and heads noticeably lean in. “Your strategy saved us.”

Marinette doesn’t have to fake her blush. “Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir are what really saved us,” she counters, and as Adrien chuckles she notices a carrot-haired girl behind him go visibly pale, looking panicked as her fingers peck rapidly at her phone.

“Good point. But I don’t think I can ask Ladybug and Chat Noir to the movies,” he replies. “You, on the other hand…”

He’s very close now, one hand casually resting on the locker behind her, and Marinette’s heart is pounding even though she planned this part too. But she didn’t tell Adrien how to ask; she feared that if they practiced too much, it would all sound rehearsed. The other reason, the reason she’s kept to herself, is that there was another time—the first time—that Adrien asked her out, and who knows if she’ll ever get the memory of that first time back? This is her new first time, now. She didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

Everyone in the hall seems to be holding their breath. Marinette looks into Adrien’s green, green eyes.

“I’d love to,” she says.

And then somewhere down the hall, a girl screams at top volume, _“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”_

 

* * *

 

Marinette is still shaking a little from her first encounter with Chloé Bourgeois by the time she gets to her homeroom, which is why the boy in a green shirt and glasses doesn’t find it odd that she sat in his seat by mistake and redirects her to the correct one.

“We’ve all been there,” he soothes, patting her shoulders as he guide her into her chair. “Your hearing should recover in an hour or so. By the way, congratulations! I was starting to think you would _never_ snag Adrien!”

“Uh, thanks?” Marinette manages to say. Her ears are still ringing from Chloe’s tirade. The boy nods, patting her shoulder again, and goes back to his own seat.

The rest of the class trickles in, a few others stopping by to comment on her hallway stunt or to offer temporary protection from Chloé if needed. Adrien arrives just before the bell rings, flanked by Chloé herself, who shoots Marinette a glare so cold that she almost shivers. But Adrien takes a seat in the front row and shoots Marinette a little wink before he turns around, and the cold melts at once.

 _We did it!_ she thinks, allowing herself to sigh with relief. _No one knows we were together before!_

“Agreste, Adrien?” Their teacher, the same one who found them on Friday, marks off their names as she calls roll. “Bourgeois, Chloé? Bruel, Ivan? Césaire, Alya? …Alya?”

Silence. Marinette looks around, but there’s no sign of the girl from the bus. No messages came through on her phone this morning, either.

“No Alya?” the teacher tries again. “Has anyone heard from her?” There are a few murmured “No, Mademoiselle”s from the room. Marinette shakes her head when gazes turn her way. The teacher shrugs, and makes a note on her clipboard. “Alright, I’ll ask the office to call her home later. Couffaine, Juleka?”

They get through roll and move on. It’s nearly twenty minutes into first period when the door bursts open and the missing Alya Césaire runs in.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Mademoiselle Bustier,” she pants, glasses knocked askew. “Please don’t give me a late slip! I overslept! My parents had left for work and I tried to ask my sister for a ride, but she already—”

Mademoiselle Bustier shakes her head. “I’m sorry too, Alya, but you know the school rules. It’s been too long since the first bell. Catch your breath and take a seat, we’ll sort out the tardy mark later.”

Crestfallen, Alya re-hefts her bag over her shoulder and slumps up the stairs to Marinette’s row, falling into the empty seat beside her. She’s still wearing her pajama pants, Marinette notices, and both shoes are untied and dirty. Her curly hair is a cloud of tangled frizz, flatter on one side where she slept.

“Hey Alya, late night at Nino’s?” someone whispers loud enough for all to hear.

There’s a scatter of giggles. Alya stiffens at once, her tired face hardening. Mademoiselle Bustier’s eyes narrow, searching for culprit, but when there’s no other response she must decide that the best course of action is to continue lecturing on that week’s chapter of Cyrano de Bergerac. Across the room, Chloe grins and murmurs something in the carrot-haired girl’s ear, who sniggers before Bustier pointedly calls on her with a question about the homework.

Alya drops her bag to the floor with a hard _thud._ Anger is rolling off of her in nearly palpable waves. Nino hunches forward in his seat, not turning around, and Marinette watches Adrien look over at him with a concerned frown.

She waits until Bustier is writing out questions on the board, before quietly asking Alya, “You okay?”

Alya doesn’t look up from her notebook. “Oh,” she bites out, “so _now_ you’re talking to me?”

Marinette flinches. “Sorry. It was a really…busy weekend. I was drowning in work.” She bites her lip. “You know, the usual me.”

“Sure.” Alya doesn’t sound convinced at first, but after a moment she deflates a little. “The usual you,” she repeats, sighing. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“You look exhausted.” Marinette takes in her dark circles and red eyes. “Is that from the akuma?”

“No,” Alya huffs, “from my parents. I’m grounded for a week: they changed the wifi password. I had to wait until everyone was asleep to dig out the ethernet cord in order to update the Ladyblog. And check my messages in case _some people—”_ she knocks her elbow into Marinette’s, but not unkindly, “—remembered to text me back.” She pauses, tapping her pen idly against her notebook. “And I couldn’t sleep anyway. I guess I hoped Ladybug’s Cleansing Light would fix more than all the stuff we wrecked in the Tour Montparnasse.” She glances down at Nino, looking miserable.

Marinette opens her mouth, but Bustier has spotted her and fires off a question about Roxane in Act III, ending their conversation. When the class bell rings, Alya quickly packs up her bag and says she has to run to her locker to get her next set of books, as she didn’t have time in the morning, rushing out of the classroom before Marinette can catch up. More giggles follow her as she leaves and she hunches defensively, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Marinette can feel the anger radiate from her again.

Wait—Marinette can _feel_  Alya's anger, her shame, pushing against her with a physical force, like trying to walk into a hard gust of wind. Like it’s trying its best to push her down.

 

* * *

 

> **ME:** i have a question  
>  **ME:** about…our study group
> 
> 💕💖❤️🌟💘 **Adrien** ✨💍💗💕💑❤️: what’s up?
> 
> **ME:** does plagg know what “cleansing light” is supposed to do??


End file.
